Magna's Plea (The Fate Challenges) (2 page)

“I’m the only o-one.” Cyrun’s lip trembled.

“We searched and saw no others either.” Father backed Cyrun’s words.

Magna relaxed in her chair. If Cyrun was the only one, then the Amorans might still be safe.

“Summon a mephina.” Vyvian watched the prisoner with a heavy gaze.

A guard bowed and sprinted to find one of the Royal messengers.

“What to do with you? You’re quite the bargaining chip, don’t you agree?” Mother tapped her finger to her lips.

The young man didn’t answer, although his eyes smoldered in silent rage.

The humanlike mephina glided into the room with the grace of a lithe dancer. The joining of Mephets, a messenger god, and Inashara, Goddess of Love, created the sacred mephinas. Their golden flesh sparkled in the magical candlelight. The woman-like body curtsied. Their dark hair draped forward from the action. Their two heads rested side by side and were attached to the body from their individual necks.

“You requested us.” Determination set the masculine right head’s bearded jaw, and his lips pursed in a thin line.

“We are at your service, my queen.” The feminine left head flashed an eager grin, her eyes as bright as liquid gold.

“Yes, I need you to take a message to the Apenthans. Tell them we have captured their prince. If they do not surrender by dawn, then we will execute him. His head will grace our walls.” The queen waved her hand. “You may depart to your task.”

“Your majesty,” the two heads said in agreement. The mephina spun around and left the throne room.

“Send him to the dungeons and keep him chained. No one is allowed to visit him.” Queen Vyvian dismissed the guards.

They snatched the prisoner.

Magna watched in silence as the guards dragged the young man away. Her gaze flicked over to the picture of the Phoenix-Queen Amora. Purple eyes stared back at her. The same colored eyes as Prince Cyrun’s. Dread washed over her like Thean’s torrential downpours. She would bet her favorite winged horse that Prince Cyrun was more of a direct descendant of Phoenix-Queen Amora than most Royals.

“Come to the banquet room. A feast awaits us. Tomorrow all this nasty business will be behind us.” Smiling at her children and consort, Queen Vyvian stood with a water nymph’s grace and motioned for them to exit the throne room. When she noticed Magna hadn’t moved from her chair, she paused. “What’s the matter, my dear?”

Magna looked up. Her brothers and Father waited at the doorway, yet she focused upon her mother. “Must we execute him?”

Vyvian waved for the others to leave them. Her cold fingers brushed against Magna’s cheek. “Yes, we must. If a promise of his death will end this attack upon our kingdom, then it is imperative. Come, child, let’s eat.”

Magna stood, but any appetite she might have had vanished. “I have a headache. I wish to lie down in my rooms.”

“I remember having headaches when I turned eighteen. The influx of our magic is strongest when we come into it. Go rest.”

“Thank you.” Magna hesitated while her mother and remaining guards left the throne room.

As soon as they had gone, Magna scurried to the hidden passage where Fava awaited her. “Fava, return to my rooms. If anyone asks, I’m resting and not to be disturbed.” She slung the cloak around her shoulders and fastened the golden phoenix broach. Magna shooed her servant away. “Go!”

She didn’t wait for Fava’s response. Her cloak flapped around her legs as she weaved through the labyrinth of hidden passageways down to the dungeons. Blue light bathed the path here and there from the faint magical lamps. The magic’s odor reminded her of the air before a thunderstorm.

A set of discolored stones—more white than gray—let her know she’d arrived at the hidden entrance to the dungeons. She pressed her ear against the cool rocks. No sounds penetrated the door. She slid a stone panel to the right. Voices drifted toward her. She froze and held her breath.

“It’ll all be over by morning.”

“Think they’ll go for it?”

“Of course, unless they’re stupid.” The guard laughed. “Then again, they are Apenthans.”

The other guard chortled. Metal raked against metal. “Ready to meet Hypogaia, Prince? You ’ave a one-stop journey to the Underworld at the sun’s light.”

“Won’t you talk to us?” Laughter shrieked down the stone walls. “Come, Markyn. Let’s get some grub.”

“I ’ope they ’ave somethin’ better than leek stew. I’m tired of leeks.”

“Me too.” Their voices faded along with their footsteps.

“Cloaked in shadows,” Magna chanted. Darkness swirled around her until it hid her from sight. She crept to the only occupied cell and listened out for other guards until she was certain they were alone.

The lanky boy huddled in a corner of the tiny prison. The shackles around his wrists interlocked with a latch in the wall, and an odor of damp hay permeated the room.

Magna tiptoed from the cell to a water spigot. Someone had to clean the cells every so often, and she shuddered at the thoughts of having to do such a task. A bucket sat under the spigot, and she filled it with water and grabbed a cloth. She touched the lock with magic. The door creaked open. Did anyone hear her? The young man peered toward her direction, but she didn’t speak a word until the metal door closed behind her.

“Hello.” The darkness from her shadow spell fled off her like water. “Prince Cyrun?”

“Who are you?” His voice was as dry as dust. His lower lip cracked open, and blood pooled in the corner. She squirmed under his steady gaze.

“I’m Princess Magna.” The water sloshed when she dipped the cloth into it. “Are you thirsty? I can summon some drinking water.”

He flinched when she pressed the damp fabric against his head wound. His wrists pulled at the chains, as if testing their strength. “Why are you here?”

“Hold still.” She ignored his question. Her mother would punish her if she knew she’d seen him, but she had to speak with him, discover if she could win peace for both their kingdoms. She summoned clean drinking water and held the metal cup to his parched lips. “Have a sip. I promise it’s not poisoned.”

Cyrun hesitated. His smoldering gaze brought heat to her cheeks, and she was glad when he glanced into the cup. He sipped the water. “Why would you poison a condemned man? It makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Magna cleaned off the drying blood. “War never should have come between our two kingdoms.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“You have the eyes of our Phoenix-Queen Amora, founder of our kingdom. Only a Royal could have such purple eyes.” She trailed her fingertips along his eyebrow.

“Purple eyes are unusual but not uncommon.” He scooted until his back pressed against the wall. “I wouldn’t be a prince, if I wasn’t a Royal.”

He had a point, but all Royals were descended from Amora and Apenth.

“Amora and Apentha are twin cities. Moran, Amora and the god Apenth’s son, named Apentha after his sister.” Her own brother had been named after Amora’s famous first son. She shifted closer. Cyrun’s soft breath brushed against her lips. She hadn’t been quite this close to another man before. “We are family, cousins, if you will. We should embrace each other, not fight.”

The restraints clinked by her ear. His lower lip quivered and gaze softened, as if he wanted to accept her friendship. Was she getting through to him? Although she had little power over her mother’s plans, she believed Cyrun and she could stop this war.

“You are a fool.” He kicked the bucket. Water splashed against her and coated the previously dampened hay. She scurried away from him as he looked at his bindings. “You cling to old legends. By dawn, the Kingdom of Amora will belong to Apentha.”

How did he dare to say such a thing! She clenched her jaw so tightly it popped. From her grasp on the cloth, liquid dripped between her fingers and onto the dirty wet floor. She tossed the bloody rag down. “
I
am the fool? I’m not the one who is going to lose my pretty little head in the morning.”

His defiance wounded her pride. How could she get through the insufferable and arrogant boy? She had been so certain he would see her side of the situation. Did he not care if her mother killed him?

“It doesn’t have to be like this. I want a peaceful end to this war. We are family, whether you believe it or not, and not all that different.” She spun toward the door of his prison cell. Her dress and cloak swished around her ankles. With a flourish, she lifted the hood over her head and disappeared into the dungeons’ shadows.

The erratic ringing of bells woke Magna from her slumber.

“Fava, what’s going on?” She could barely hear her own voice over the shrill alarm. “Fava?”

Magna pushed aside the thick curtains canopied around her bed. The warning grew louder, more insistent. The cool marble floor caused her to suck in air when her bare feet touched it. She found her leather bedside sandals and slipped them on.

Magical lights illuminated her rooms as she padded through the bedroom to her bathroom and then sitting room. Fava often slept in the sitting room instead of her own small room off to the side in case Magna needed anything. Her heart pounded as she crept to her servant’s room. The door creaked as she opened it.

Fava’s bedroll sat untouched. A pitcher and bowl rested on a small trunk. Even the chamber pot in the corner didn’t smell.

Where had Fava gone?

“Of all the times,” Magna said under her breath. She returned to her bedroom and unlatched the wooden shutters. They swung open with a loud crack.

“Oh, son of Thean!” She clutched her hands to her chest.

Fire engulfed the hills surrounding Palamartia, where the palace was located. Thick smoke plumed into the night’s sky while flames licked various buildings. The din of swords echoed along the streets. Screams erupted and combated with the forever intoning of the bells.

“What the Hupobus!” Dressed in a nightgown, she grabbed her cloak and exited her rooms. She couldn’t run fast enough to her brothers’ quarters. “Thoran? Moran? The city is under attack.”

Like Fava, her brothers weren’t there.

Panic, with its iron-like fingers, seized Magna by the throat, but she pried it off. Were Moran and Thoran fighting in the streets? They would be fine, since Father was likely with them. She had to find her mother. Queen Vyvian would know what they should do. Magna raced to her mother’s rooms.

Empty. Every single one.

Fear sat in her stomach like soured milk. Were they already dead? Had the enemy struck the palace first? She shook her head and cleared it of the notion.
Don’t be silly, Magna, the palace is impenetrable.

Besides, if the Apenthans had attacked the palace, then why would they leave her behind?

Magna summoned darkness, and it cloaked her like black velvet. In whisper softness, she stalked into the dungeons to seek their prisoner. Cyrun had to know something he hadn’t told them. He would tell her—

She stumbled just feet from his cell.

One guard reclined upon the floor. His eyes stared at nothing, and a blotch of red blossomed from his chest. A sword had pierced him like skewered meat. The second guard sat against the wall with his head at an awkward angle. His eyes were closed.

Magna knew what she would find in Cyrun’s cell before she entered it, but she still shivered when she saw it was vacant, just like her family’s rooms. Although Amoran guards had searched for other Apenthans when they’d captured Cyrun, they had to have missed the others. The Apenthans had breached the city’s walls, and Cyrun had somehow helped them.

“Oh, gods.” She collapsed against the wall. Her heart pounded in her ears as loud as drums upon the battlefield. Tears clouded her vision, but she refused to let them fall. Magna thrust herself from the wall and fled from the dungeons.

The charm she’d used to cloak her drifted off in a black cloud. She ignored her exposure, since no one was around to see her. She skidded to a stop when she entered the weapons room. Either guards or their adversaries had ransacked the place. Only a few rusty swords remained. She scooped up a dented old weapon. Wait! Something gleamed from underneath a pile of wooden practice shields.

She dropped the bent blade, clasped the golden metal, and yanked out her father’s sword from under the shields. The phoenix rising from the ashes emblem no longer gave her hope. Had the worst happened? Father wouldn’t have willingly left his weapon. Hot tears pooled in her eyes, and she clutched the sheathed blade to her chest. Her shoulders shook with grief.

Magna took a few moments to calm her surging feelings. At the age of eighteen, she could possibly be the kingdom’s queen. No! She didn’t know what had happened to her family yet. Her kingdom—her family—was in danger, and she had to do something to save them. After she wiped the tears from her eyes, she wrapped the belt with the sword around her waist and double-knotted it. She rushed from the room.

“Princess Magna, there you are!” Fava’s warm voice echoed in the corridor.

“Fava! Where were you?” Relief turned Magna’s muscles into jelly. She grasped a nearby wall to keep herself on her feet. “Where is everyone?”

“I ’eard the bells and went to see what was ’appenin’. When I got back, you were gone. We’ve been lookin’ for you. Guards ’ave secured the queen, king-consort, and princes in the inner palace. You must join them.” Fava flitted back and forth like a moth trapped in a glass. Her gaze darted to the windows, where shouts neared.